


After So Many Years

by vaxildamn



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex, Reunions, rediscovered love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 10:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12479432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaxildamn/pseuds/vaxildamn
Summary: Taryon is on a mission with his Brigade when he sees a familiar face.





	After So Many Years

“I just don’t see why you want to buy anything here when there are perfectly good shops back in Deastok,” muttered a young, slender man as his boss dragged his whole group towards the middle of the shopping district. 

 

“Nonsense, Kipling! We need to get into the heart of the city! Get to know the people we’re helping!” Taryon Darrington, with a gaggle of adventurers in matching outfits behind him, was grinning and marching onwards until they made it to the main crossroads. “I’ll take this one while the rest of you pair up and meet more of the locals!” He broke off from his brigade with a wave and strode towards a store on the corner with a variety of animal hides on display, the storekeep having just ducked out of sight as he entered.

 

“Excuse me, good sir!” Tary called to the man he had barely caught a glimpse of just before he disappeared into the back room of the shop. 

 

“Just a moment,” the voice replied. A shiver shot through Tary’s body and he furrowed his brow.

 

“Must be rather chilly in here,” he thought aloud, though he actually felt quite warm. Had he been this warm before? He tugged at his collar and turned to examine some of the hides while he waited, staying far away from anything with bear fur on it, and putting on his best smile when he heard that voice again.

 

“Sorry about the wait! How can I he-” Tary turned to face the craftsman and felt his heart stop. Time seemed to freeze, and rewind decades, as the man in front of him stood dumbfounded. Taryon’s mouth fell open and he shook his head slowly, his expression shifting from shock to joy to confusion to disbelief to fear to pain, all in the matter of a second or two. “T-Taryon?”

 

“This- This isn’t- It can’t-” he stammered and backed up into a rack of leathers, his mind racing.  _ It’s a trick. He died, Tary. Your father had him killed. Someone is laying a trap, playing a horrible prank, being cruel. He can’t be real. _

 

“Tary, it’s me. Don’t… Don’t you remember me?” The gentleness in his voice made Tary’s heart pound, and the way he moved, how he slowly approached, brought memory after memory flooding back. Memories of the first time Tary laid eyes on him as he walked through the door to the study. Memories of sneaking through the Darringtons’ personal library, hand in hand. Memories of the way the sun warmed their skin the day that they had told Howaardt that they would be having an outdoor lesson, and then picnicked in the woods together. Memories of a door slamming open and shouting and crying and begging, and then emptiness. Every memory, every moment, every feeling that time and trauma had dulled, snapped back into perfect focus in his mind and he felt a sting in the corners of his eyes.

 

“Lawrence?” Tary’s voice broke slightly, and when the tanner’s face broke into a smile, he knew. He flung himself into open arms and held on for dear life, hot tears seeping into the fabric of Lawrence’s shirt. He still smelled the same, except that the scent of old leather that used to cling to his skin from hours spent surrounded by piles of books had been replaced by the scent of new leather. When he finally pulled back, he nearly burst into tears again. This skin was more bronzed than he had known it, and there were new lines creasing this face, but those eyes - a soft, warm brown - were exactly the same, and they still made Tary’s knees weak. “It’s really you,” he managed before he couldn’t contain himself any longer and he started to laugh. “It’s  _ you!” _ Lawrence’s hands, large and calloused, cupped the sides of Taryon’s beaming face, and he wiped a tear from his cheek. 

 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Lawrence whispered as he pressed his forehead to Taryon’s, the fingers of one hand brushing through soft, golden hair as the other held onto his long-lost love, scared that if he let go for even a second, he might lose him again. They stayed silent like this for what felt like a blissful eternity, until the door to the shop opened and they jumped apart before remembering that they weren’t in Tary’s old room, and his father wasn’t here, and no one was going to scream at them.

 

“Oh” was all that they heard. It was one of the Brigade. “Sorry, boss, I- The team wanted to get dinner?”

 

“Of course, of course.” Tary cleared his throat and smoothed his shirt down. “Why - um - Why don’t you all go have fun without me? I’ve… I’ve met an old friend.” His eyes softened as he looked back at Lawrence, and the Brigade member nodded silently and headed out the door.

 

Lawrence closed up the shop, and the two of them sat together in his living room for hours after dinner, talking about their lives, hands mindlessly stroking forearms and hair and thighs, knuckles brushing against each other and sending electricity through Tary’s bones. Lawrence was as soft and warm as he had been when they first met, his dark hair falling down over his shoulders when he pulled it out of the loose bun he kept it in for work. He laughed at Tary’s stories, and sat in awe as he was regaled with the tales of Vox Machina, and his eyes widened with horror whenever Tary mentioned a near-death experience. His life, he said, was much less interesting. 

 

“All I did was run. Ran from your father, ran from Deastok, ran from everything. It- it killed me to know that I was leaving you but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t keep putting you in danger like that, Taryon, I-” Lawrence cleared his throat and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Lawrence…” Tary rested his hand on the side of that tan, guilt-ridden face. “You did what you needed to do. I’m so glad you ran, because it meant that you  _ lived _ .” Lawrence smiled, holding the softness of Taryon’s hand to his face, and then turned and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm. He heard a small gasp, and Tary wondered if his former tutor could also hear the way his heart was pounding, or feel the goosebumps on his skin. 

 

“I’m sorry, I just- It’s an old habit.” He dropped Tary’s hand and looked away. “I’m sure you’ve got-”

 

Before he could even finish his sentence, Taryon’s mouth was on his, and his lips were eager and sweet as he knocked them both off balance and horizontal on the couch. It felt like no time had passed at all. When they parted, it was only a few inches, and Lawrence couldn’t help but think that Taryon looked angelic in the candlelight. 

 

“Tell me more, Lawrence,” he said, laying on top of him and resting his head on Lawrence’s chest to feel that familiar vibration of his deep, raspy voice as he spoke. And Lawrence did speak. He told Tary about fleeing the city, about hiding, about finding work as a farmhand and then as a barman, and then as a tanner. He had to leave behind his personal library when he fled - Tary gasped at that - and with the amount of travel he’d been doing, there hadn’t been much time to curate a new one. He laughed when Tary promised to help him with that, and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

 

They stayed like that in comfortable silence for a while, Tary running his fingers over the exposed skin of Lawrence’s chest, his leg slung over one of Lawrence’s thighs.

 

“I missed this,” Tary admitted, partially to Lawrence and partially to himself. “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you, too.” And then silence again for a long time as the fire died down and their eyelids grew heavy. And then, “Stay.”

 

Tary hummed his reply as he buried his face into Lawrence’s chest and tried to stifle a yawn. He was in that space between wake and sleep when everything is hazy and disconnected, and he was so sure that if he moved, he would come back to reality to find himself in his tent, with his brigade, alone. When Lawrence shifted to sit up, Tary whined, but he got up anyways. Lawrence took him by the hand and led him down a hallway to the open door of his bedroom.

 

“You can sleep here, and I’ll-” Lawrence started, not wanting to assume that Tary would still feel comfortable sharing a bed with him since they had only gotten to sleep together - in the literal sense - once before they were separated. From what he remembered, Tary slept curled up in a ball, stole all of the covers, had cold feet, and looked like the most beautiful creature Lawrence had ever seen.

 

“Lawrence.” Tary fixed him with a sleepier version of the look he had seen many times before, many years ago. The look that said “don’t be stupid” and “don’t ever leave me” at the same time. He closed the door behind them.

 

Instinct and old habits took over. Less hasty and aggressive than before, but just as desperate. They closed the distance between themselves and Lawrence leaned down and kissed him, slowly and gently, like he was afraid that his rediscovered love might shatter if he wasn’t handled with care. His lips barely brushed against Tary’s but his heart pounded in his chest nonetheless and he felt shaking hands slide up his sides and tug at his shirt.

 

“Lawrence,” was all that Taryon whispered, but it was enough. Lawrence raised his arms above his head and let his shirt be pulled off of him slowly, warm hands ghosting over the newly-exposed skin, and soft lips sprinkling kisses along his collarbone. He pulled off Tary’s shirt too and while the act was familiar, the sight that greeted him was not. Where there had once been unmarked, golden skin stretched over a sort of scrawny frame, there was now a body marked with a few faint scars; a body that, while still slender, had filled out a bit with some muscle. The tufts of light hair that once stopped at his belly button had spread a bit to his chest. And there was a confidence now that suited all of this well. Lawrence stared at the man before him, the man who looked so much more like a boy when he had seen him last, with such affection that pinkish hues started to spring up on Taryon’s cheeks as rough hands explored his relatively new physique. 

 

Eventually those hands settled on Tary’s waist, and Lawrence kissed him softly and sweetly as he slid trousers and undergarments off all of once, until Taryon stood naked before him. He wanted to stand there for hours to take that sight in, and then to cover every inch of skin in kisses, but the slow and sleepy blink of Tary’s eyes reminded him of the late hour, and he finished undressing himself. He climbed into bed, pulling Taryon into the warmth of the blankets, and then wrapping his arms around him. The lanterns were turned off and the two men settled into each other’s embraces, their hands wandering over the bodies they had missed for so long. Tary drifted to sleep first, curling himself up and rolling so that his back was to Lawrence, who simply curled his body around Tary, wrapped the blankets tightly around the two of them, and fell into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in months, if not years, the smell of honey and lavender on Taryon’s skin comforting him almost as much as the feeling of that body pressed against his again after all these years. 

 

When Lawrence awoke, he refused to open his eyes, so sure that he would look over to see an empty bed and be forced to accept the fact that this was a dream, just like all the others he’d had about Taryon over the years. He only dared to do so when he felt the mattress shift beside him and felt a cold foot press up against his leg. He couldn’t stop the grin that broke out on his face as he rolled over and rubbed one of his eyes, opening them to see light blonde hair spread out on the pillow beside him. Golden light poured into the windows as the sun came up over the city, gilding Taryon in radiance, and Lawrence watched the rise and fall of his chest with absolute joy. He didn’t want to wake him yet, so he just watched, and ran his fingers gently through that soft, blonde hair, and told him that he loved him with the knowledge that Tary couldn’t hear those three words that they had never gotten the chance to exchange before, not knowing if the sentiment would be returned. 

 

After almost an hour, Lawrence leaned down and kissed Tary on the forehead, and then on his closed eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, and finally on his soft, pink lips. Tary started to stir, and Lawrence continued, kissing his mouth a few more times before dipping his head to kiss all along his stubbled jaw, and then hesitating a moment before sucking an earlobe for a second. Tary squirmed, but the small noise that came from him was not one of protest, and Lawrence grinned. He kissed back along his jaw to his lips, savoring the sweetness of his skin, and cradled Tary’s face in one hand as he pressed a long and gentle kiss to his lips. Tary finally opened his eyes, and smiled up at the face above him framed by dark curls into which he slid his hands, pulling Lawrence down to kiss him some more. He whined when Lawrence pulled away, but those lips were on his neck moments later, and strong hands were sliding between his legs and nudging them open to make room for Lawrence to settle between them. Tary felt sparks every time Lawrence pressed his lips to skin, covering his whole neck in soft kisses and sucking gently on the places that made Tary sigh.

 

“Lawrence” was the only word he could say as his old lover pressed almost worshipful kisses across his collarbone and down one arm, and told him how gorgeous he was and how much he had missed him, and how much he had missed his body. Lawrence’s touch was so soft on him, his lips so careful and reverent as he kissed from his shoulder down to the inside of his elbow, where he let his tongue trace a pattern on the sensitive skin, and then to his wrist, where he sucked on the pulse point, to his hand where he kissed every inch on both sides and then licked up each finger and sucked on the tips before kissing back down and repeating the same ministrations on the other arm. Tary’s breath was shaky at this point, his nerves lighting up everywhere that Lawrence touched him, and heat was pooling in his belly as a nipple disappeared into the warmth of Lawrence’s mouth. Another whine escaped him, Lawrence’s tongue flicking over the pink bud and swirling around it until Tary was panting. He wasn’t sure if he was glad or not that Lawrence had remembered how sensitive he was, and how exactly to make him come undone. Unlike some of their previous times together, though, Lawrence wasn’t doing this to tease him or make him beg. There was no mischievous grin on his face when he looked up at Tary. It was more tender. It was reverent. When he looked at Taryon, it was with awe and wonder and gratefulness that he had been given this blessing a second time. 

 

When Taryon was younger, he didn’t know what to do with that, with someone whose affection was unconditional, but he had grown since then and he let himself melt into the moment. He let his breaths get shallow and his face go pink, and any sound that found its way to his lips was let out without shame. Sighs and moans and whines and praises of Lawrence’s mouth tumbled out almost unceasingly as he felt lips travel down his abdomen, felt a tongue trace along the line from his hip to his groin, felt his leg lift over Lawrence’s shoulder and his thigh be covered in open-mouthed kisses. His calf and shin received the same treatment, and he was a bit surprised when, after sucking on the thin skin over his ankle, Lawrence proceeded to kiss the top and sole of his foot, and each of his toes. One leg dropped, and the other was picked up, and Lawrence continued on in the same fashion. As he pressed his lips to the uppermost part of Tary’s inner thigh, he noticed with a smile the effects of his work so far: the slow but sure growth of arousal. It took a decent amount of self-control to not stop what he was doing, take Tary into his mouth, and make him unravel immediately.

 

Eventually, he climbed back to Tary’s lips and kissed him with the same softness as before, Tary moaning into Lawrence’s mouth this time and involuntarily grinding up against his thigh. He may have developed some patience over the last few years, but he would never stop being noisy and needy when Lawrence was touching him. Every kiss, every flick of the tongue, felt like heaven and sent his blood rushing between his legs. In response, Lawrence rolled him onto his stomach and started to kiss across his shoulders and down his spine. He took slightly less time on this side, but he still drew out the process, and Tary occasionally rolled his hips into the mattress and whispered “please.”

 

“Soon” was the response he got as Lawrence kissed the base of his spine and let his fingers dig gently into the muscle of Tary’s ass. He kissed and licked and sucked his way down one side, down a thigh, down a calf, and then up the other calf, the other thigh, the other curve of an ass that was firmer and more muscled now that he had remembered it. He felt Tary gasp and shiver, and heard him groan, when his tongue slid into the cleft and down over the sensitive skin around his entrance. He spent relatively little time circling his tongue there and slowly pressing the tip of it inside, drawing high-pitched moans and “oh”s and “more”s from Tary, not because it wasn’t good but because at this point, he desperately wanted the “more” that Tary kept asking for and it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on anything else. 

 

He rolled Tary onto his back again and settled between his legs, taking a moment to admire the way Tary looked when he was being taken apart this slowly. His face was pink and his pupils were wide and his lips hung open ever so slightly. Lawrence kissed him again, and his hand moved between them to wrap loosely around Tary’s cock, earning him a loud moan and fingers tangling into his hair to bring him closer, kiss him more, deeper, harder. He let Taryon thrust into his hand and moan into his mouth for a while before letting go and sliding back down the bed so that he could, with no warning, take Tary’s entire length into his mouth. Tary bolted upright, his blue-green eyes locked onto Lawrence as he moved up and down the shaft, his hands pushing Tary’s legs further apart and caressing his thighs. Now propped up on his elbows, Tary stared down at Lawrence, who stared right back as he swirled his tongue around and made Tary bite his lip and tug on the sheets to keep from coming already. One hand reached down to push him off, and Lawrence settled instead for licking and kissing at the shaft, and sucking on the head when he wanted to make Tary moan his name again. 

 

Instead, Tary said “fuck me” in the most desperate, pleading voice Lawrence had ever heard, and he scrambled back up the bed to reach into a drawer in his bedside table. A surprised moan escaped when he felt a soft hand stroke his cock, and he stabilized himself on the nightstand as that hand worked him into nearly as much of a mess as its owner was. He was breathing heavy and his hips were moving of their own accord at this point, sliding himself into the hand that he had imagined so many times over the years. He managed to pull himself together enough to pull away and bring the small jar of oil with him, slicking two fingers and pressing one against Tary’s entrance, pushing it in slowly as he kissed his lover with a heat and a hunger that he had restrained until then. He curled his finger forward and Tary held onto him for dear life, trying to maneuver his hips to fuck himself on that finger and making noises that went straight to Lawrence’s cock when the second finger was pushed in. He stretched Taryon as slowly as he could when all he was hearing was “more” and “yes” and “please” and “fuck me, Lawrence” and “I need your cock” in various combinations. Though Tary whimpered when Lawrence pulled his fingers out, dumping the oil on his hand and stroking himself a few times and sliding a pillow under Tary’s hips, the noise he made when Lawrence slowly pushed inside was worth it. When he was in to the hilt, Lawrence waited, his breath shaky, as Tary was wrapped his legs around his waist. 

 

“You feel… incredible,” Lawrence managed, and Tary flushed a deeper shade of pink.

 

“You feel just like I remember.” He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Lawrence’s lips before looking him in the eyes and whispering, “ _ Move _ .” So Lawrence did, sliding out slowly, setting a gentle pace and savoring every shudder of Taryon’s body when his cock grazed that spot inside of him that made him beg for Lawrence and what he kept calling “that gorgeous cock.” He felt Tary’s thighs wrap even tighter around his waist after what felt like an eternity of absolute pleasure, and took the opportunity to roll them both over, his hands on Tary’s hips to hold him securely, not wanting to lose the heat and tightness surrounding him. Taryon, suddenly in control, planted his hands on Lawrence’s chest, leaned forward, and lifted himself almost entirely off of his lover’s cock before coming back down at an angle that very nearly made him see stars. Lawrence was swearing and moaning and calling out Taryon’s name, his fingers digging into Tary’s hips. There was a dramatic shift in angle when Lawrence suddenly wrapped his arms around Tary’s waist and sat up, pressing their torsos together and sucking on the extremely sensitive skin of Taryon’s collarbone. Arms wound around Lawrence’s neck as Tary rocked his hips forward, his cock smearing precum onto Lawrence’s stomach as he moved.

 

“I don’t want this to end,” Lawrence sighed into Tary’s skin. “I’ve thought about this, dreamt about this, fantasized about this for so long.”

 

“This isn’t the last time.” Tary brushed a strand of dark hair out of Lawrence’s face and kissed him. “We have time for more.” He paused to kiss Lawrence again. 

 

“I love you.” Lawrence had said it so many times this morning and couldn’t help but say it again when he looked into Taryon’s eyes.

 

“I love you too,” Tary beamed. He touched his forehead to Lawrence’s and, after a moment, whispered, “Make me come, darling.” And then he kissed Lawrence hard, his fingers tugging at dark hair as he threw his weight backwards and landed on his back. Lawrence braced himself on one forearm, slamming into Tary harder and faster than before, leaving one hand free to wrap around his cock and move. Taryon’s hands scrambled for purchase on Lawrence’s back, nearly screaming now as he praised Lawrence and begged still for more, yes, just like that,  _ yes, more, please, fuck,  _ **_Lawrence_ ** ! His whole body tensed over and over as he came harder than he had in years, splattering his chest and Lawrence’s hand, and he moaned when, mere moments later, he felt Lawrence finish inside of him and cry out “ _ Taryon! _ ” 

 

The weight of Lawrence’s body settled on top of Tary, and they stayed there in total bliss, stroking each other’s hair and pressing kisses to each other’s skin, for god-only-knows-how-long. They would have fallen asleep like that if Lawrence hadn’t remembered that they needed to clean up, pulling out to Tary’s disappointment and standing up. He offered his hand, and Tary took it, whining as he stood on shaky legs.

 

“Come on, my love,” Lawrence said, lacing his fingers with Taryon’s. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

 

When they finally returned to the bed, freshly bathed, Tary curled up against Lawrence and rested his head on his chest. Minutes passed in pleasant silence before Lawrence spoke.

 

“When do you leave?” 

 

Tary remembered his brigade, and the life he had outside of these walls, outside of this man, and thought.

 

“Never, unless you come with me.”

 

“Taryon, my love, I would follow you anywhere.”


End file.
